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Friday, December 12, 2014

Shmuel Yankel Isserles was prepared to emigrate to
America.His nephew, Mordy, was much
more worldly, and coached Shmuel Yankel on the things he would need to know
when he arrived on the shores of the Goldene
Medine.They had determined that
Shmuel Yankel would Anglicize his name and become Sam Israel, and so Mordy had
carefully instructed his uncle, “When the clerk says, ‘Name?’, you will reply,
‘Sam Israel.’”

Throughout the week of the steamship voyage, Shmuel Yankel
rehearsed the exchange in his head.But
as the passengers disembarked, he grew flustered at the enormity of the crowd
and the ensuing chaos.And so it was
that when the clerk asked him his name, he found that he had completely
forgotten what to say.Thus, Shmuel
Yankel Issereles began his life in this country as “Sean Ferguson.”

To understand the joke, you need to understand that in Yiddish, the phrase for "I've forgotten" is "shon fergessen," which, of course, sounds much like "Sean Ferguson."

These past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about that little
joke (told in a slightly different form in The
Big Book of Jewish Humor, edited by William Novak and Moshe Waldoks).With the failure of the grand jury in
Ferguson, Missouri, to hand down an indictment in the death of Michael Brown,
the country is once again polarized around the issue of race.And we all run the risk of being Sean
Fergusons…we all run the risk of forgetting what Ferguson, or Staten Island, or any of the other racially
tinged cases that continue to make news around our country, really mean.

There's a Hebrew phrase that comes to mind when I think about such issues: Noge'a ba-davar. Literally, it means "touched by the matter," but colloquially it's usually used to state that one is not impartial when it comes to an issue. One might say, "I think my children are the most brilliant and beautiful in the world, but I am noge'a ba-davar," or, "I can't offer an opinion on this argument between my friend and my spouse, because I am noge'a ba-davar." I think the phrase also applies to us as Americans. When black people are dying at a far greater rate than whites, when different standards of justice are applied for a person with dark skin than for a person with light skin, our nation has a race problem. And we are all culpable. We are all noge'a ba-davar.

As a Jewish man, it's part of my upbringing (or even part of my innate makeup) to be hyper-vigilant against acts that discriminate against someone on the basis of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, etc. After all, at multiple junctures in our people's history, there have been those who have feared us because of our differences, and who have sought to destroy us. Having felt the sting of persecution, how can we sit idle as our neighbors bleed?

And yet our Jewish experience does not directly correlate to that of our African-American brothers and sisters. With few exceptions, we as Jews do not bear external clues that proclaim our identity to others. Though I have on occasion been subject to epithets or other injustices, no one has ever crossed the street to get away from me, or refused to board an elevator with me, or made assumptions about my motives when I walk into a store, simply because of my religious identity. But our friends and neighbors of color face such indignities as part of their daily reality. And since we are all noge'a ba-davar, we must stand in solidarity with them to ensure that this reality changes.

Since the deaths of Michael Brown and Eric Garner and Tamir Rice came at the hands of police officers, many have expressed a growing distrust in law enforcement personnel. While that sentiment is understandable as we grieve over such losses, I believe it is wrong. There are many compassionate men and women working under very stressful conditions to ensure the public safety. At the end of the day, they are still human, relying on split-second instincts to help them determine whether an individual is a threat. And like all humans, at times their judgment will fail them, and they will be wrong. Some may act in a manner that is willfully malicious; others will make mistakes in the pressure of the moment. Certainly there are reasons to seek improved training, and to advocate for reforms of our justice system. But to paint every officer of the law as inherently biased or unjust is narrow-minded and unfair. Rather, I believe that we must work together within our communities to create an atmosphere of love AND justice for all.

In this week's Torah portion, VaYeshev, we find the interesting tale of Judah and his daughter-in-law Tamar. If you're interested in the full story, you can read it in Genesis 38, or here. Tamar finds that she must resort to trickery in order to make Judah grant her what is rightfully hers. When she proves her claim in court, Judah is left to admit, tzadkah mimeni, "She is more righteous than me."

But what works in the Torah does not always work in real life. For no one of us is more righteous, more deserving of justice and liberty than another. Until we make that realization and until we each embody that principle in each and every one of our interactions with one another, true justice cannot be served.

We can't breathe. Our brothers and sisters, our neighbors and friends cannot breathe. And we are all noge'a ba-davar. It is incumbent upon us to demand change.

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

I recently watched a TED talk by a
teacher of classic languages named Phuc Tran, titled “Grammar, Identity, and
the Dark Side of the Subjunctive.”While
the topic sounds dry, Tran made a fascinating argument about how grammar shapes
our perspective of the world.Tran, who
emigrated with his family from Vietnam in the 1970s, explains that the
subjunctive mood, while prevalent in English expression, is not present in
Vietnamese.This gives Tran access to a
worldview and a means of expressing himself that is not available to his other
family members who never fully assimilated into English language and culture.

As Tran
describes the subjunctive (and I don’t claim to be conversant enough in the
technical intricacies of English or Vietnamese grammar to affirm whether his
premise is entirely accurate), it is the mood that expresses a possibility, or
the conditional nature of an action.The
indicative mood in English is the one that describes an actual action: “I am
giving a sermon right now.”The
imperative is one that makes a command or request: “Sit back, relax, and pay
attention.”And the subjunctive wavers
in-between, used in statements that do not describe known, objective facts: “I
fear this might take a while.”Tran
confesses that at times he has found the subjunctive to be dangerously
disheartening, as it can lead one to dwell on “what might have been.”He makes reference to a Gallup poll that was
conducted in 2011 that found that residents of Vietnam were among the most
content in the world, and posits that this might be because their language
shields them from grappling with the subjunctive.

But I think
that it is the subjunctive that gives purpose and meaning to our lives.Particularly during these High Holy Days,
when we are challenged to engage in introspection, we need the subjunctive to
help us envision opportunities for the future.The process of teshuvah
requires us to live in the subjunctive world of possibility: May we keep far from evil in the coming
year, may we resist the temptation to
do things that we know are wrong or hurtful.Were we to ignore this potential for change, were we to eliminate the
subjunctive from our liturgy and from our personal atonement, we would lose the
depth and nuance that make these High Holidays so essential to our spiritual
growth, we would deny ourselves the opportunity to see the world as it might
be, rather than settling for the status quo.

We are commanded on this Day of
Atonement to afflict ourselves; the Torah states: “V’anitem et nafshoteichem; you shall afflict your souls.”[1].For
most, this means engaging in the fasting that has become so closely associated
with this day.But the rabbis defined
other forms of “affliction”: abstaining from sexual relations, avoiding washing
or bathing, not wearing perfume or ointments, and shunning leather shoes and
garments.By refraining from these items
and activities, they theorized, we could focus more acutely on our needs and
the needs of those around us.We could
live for a moment in the land of the subjunctive, our eyes opened to the chances
for change within ourselves, and to the possibility of helping to make the
world a better place.

Isaiah, whose prophecy we read from as our Haftarah
for this morning, recognized that in his day, people were following the letter
of the law by engaging in the prescribed fast.However, they were ignoring the spirit of the mitzvah.They were failing
to live in the subjunctive moment, failing to imagine how their affliction
could awaken them toward empathy for their fellow Israelites.Isaiah declares, “Is
not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of
injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break
every yoke?Is
it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with
shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them, and not to turn away from your
own flesh and blood?”[2]

When we permit our imaginations to
take us into the realm of the subjunctive, to imagine things as they might be,
we may be inspired to heed Isaiah’s call.We may come to believe that we can truly make a difference in the life
of others, and improve the world in the process.

In November of last year, my friend
and colleague Rabbi Rebecca Einstein Schorr posted a Facebook message that was
as intriguing as it was cryptic: “Looking for 36 brave rabbis.”I messaged her back, asking if she was looking
for nominations or volunteers, and quickly was drawn in to the scheme she had
devised: 36 rabbis would agree to shave their heads for the sake of raising
funds and awareness for pediatric cancer.The project was conceived in honor of Sammy Sommer, the eight-year-old
son of my dear friends and classmates Rabbis Phyllis and Michael Sommer, who
was then battling leukemia.Those of us
who signed up for the project—which eventually grew to more than 75
participants—were moved not only by our love for the Sommer family, but also by
our belief that our minor sacrifice could have a major impact.

Shaving a head, of course, does not
directly lead to a cure for cancer.If
it did, I’m sure that all barbers would have lines out the door.Sammy died in December, and our endeavor was transformed
from being in his honor to being in his memory.

After Sammy’s death, any one of us
could have pulled out of the venture.To
be honest, my own family wasn’t thrilled with the idea of my impending
baldness. They understood and embraced the cause, but weren’t so happy with the
shave itself.But, as one of my colleagues noted, hair grows
back; children don’t.My belief in the
world of the subjunctive was one of the things that cemented my involvement—my
conviction that our efforts could create a world of possibility so that other
families would not have to endure the pain and heartbreak that the Sommers had
felt.

On April 1, when I stood on stage
with my colleagues and the shave began, a flood of emotions washed over
me.I felt a mixture of love, sadness,
and pride.I knew that I had just been
involved in something very important, possibly world changing, because we had
dared to wander into the world of the subjunctive, the world of potential.We were able to project what might happen if
drug therapies were developed that were designed specifically for pediatric
cancers, rather than relying on toxic cocktails developed for and tested on
adults.We were able to envision that
the 43 children who are diagnosed daily with pediatric cancer could have hope
of growing into healthy adults, without residual side effects from their childhood
treatments.We had no way of knowing
whether the money we raised would be sufficient to fund the research toward
finding a cure, but that did not prevent us from dreaming big.To date, our campaign has raised over $650,000
through the St. Baldrick’s fundraising community, and we continue to accept
donations at least through the close of this calendar year.

Money, prayer, outpourings of
love—none of these could bring Sammy back, no matter how fervently we wished it
were possible.But through my
involvement with St. Baldrick’s and with this project, I learned the stories of
other children battling cancer.Through
my work with all of you, I have learned additional stories of loss, of
struggle, of suffering, and of survival.And I am strengthened in my resolve that we must continue to work toward
a cure for cancer, for Alzheimer’s, for Parkinson’s and for the myriad of other
ailments that are so devastating to our families and our communities.I am emboldened in my belief that we can
change the world for the better, and I find encouragement within the realm of
the subjunctive.

The Hebrew term Tikkun Olam—literally, “repair of the world,” is often used to
describe such deeds of social action.As
Jews, we believe that we have both the opportunity and the obligation to
perfect the world, to help fulfill God’s original vision for creation.It’s not an easy task, but it’s a rewarding
one.

On Thursday, I met with a group of
clergy, laypeople, and social service professionals as part of an interfaith
alliance that we are attempting to put together in Champaign-Urbana.Our plan is to utilize the collective
strength of our congregations and institutions to bring about positive changes
in our communities.We hope to address
issues such as poverty and homelessness, sustainability and the environment,
and children and family issues in order to work for the common good.Among our first undertakings will be
exploring how we can help to ensure that emergency shelter spaces are
sufficient to meet the needs of the homeless during the cold winter months.As our group evolves, I hope that many from
Sinai Temple will embrace our undertakings.We believe that our various faiths have the common goal of helping the
less fortunate in our midst, and we believe in our ability to make a
difference.That’s the power of the
subjunctive.

Here at Sinai Temple, there are many
opportunities to engage in Social Action.Of course we have our annual High Holiday food drive today, benefitting
the Eastern Illinois Food Bank.Through
your generosity, we donated over $5,000 and 500 pounds of food last year; we
hope to meet or exceed that amount this year.Hunger and poverty continue to plague our community, with more than 22%
of children in Champaign County living below the poverty line.

Our ongoing partnership with the
Atlanta Bread Company allows us to share their extra baked goods every Monday
with the residents of the TIMES Center.When you leave Temple today, you may wish to take with you either
“Mitzvah Bags” or “Comfort Bags,” which are found by the front door.Mitzvah Bags contain non-perishable snacks;
Comfort bags contain toiletries.Our
Religious School students packed these bags last spring as part of the Jewish
community’s Good Deeds Day.The intent
is that you keep them in your car; when you encounter an individual who is in
need of assistance, you may distribute the bags instead of cash, and help to
brighten his or her day.

We are gearing up for our next
Mitzvah Day, which will take place on Sunday morning, November 2.Our Social Action committee is hard at work
lining up Tikkun Olam opportunities; watch for a link to the sign-up website in
Monday’s email blast.There you will be
able to register for great projects, including donating blood with Community
Blood Services, or getting your cheek swabbed so that you may be added to the
National Bone Marrow Donor Registry.There are options for people of all ages.Join with us to make a difference; help us to
transform the world as it is into the world as it should be.

There will be a number of other Social
Action projects throughout the year. On Thanksgiving, your generous donations
will help us provide full turkey dinners to clients of Family Services.During the winter holidays, we’ll again
deliver Meals on Wheels.In January, we’ll
collect funds to support local scholarships in memory of Dr. Martin Luther
King, Jr.; last year Sinai Temple raised nearly $3500 for this worthy cause,
which is a congregational record.Our
Social Action committee is always welcoming new participants and new ideas for engagement
with the community as we strive to make a difference.

Making a difference is, I believe,
our highest calling.If we spend our
lives focused only on our own needs and desires, and don’t interact with this
world, then we are not, in my opinion, living up to our fullest potential.

There is a story- a folktale claimed
simultaneously by many cultures.It
tells of a wise sage who was approached by a boy seeking to test his
wisdom.The boy stood with his hands
behind his back and said, “In my hands, I hold a bird.Tell me, sir, is the bird alive or dead?”

The sage pondered the question for
quite some time.He realized that the
boy was trying to trap him.He knew that
if he said the bird was alive, the boy would crush the creature in his hands and
reveal that it was dead.If he answered
that the bird was dead, the boy would open his hands and release the bird to
the winds.

At last the sage spoke. “My son,” he
said, “I do not know the condition of the bird.But I do know this.You hold the
answer in your hands, in your hands.”

In this New Year, we hold in our
hands a world of possibility, an opportunity to truly make a difference.May we each have the courage to respond to
the challenge, to enter the realm of the subjunctive, and in so doing, may we
change the world for the better.

In early August, as rockets from Gaza were being fired
steadily into Israel, I saw a post on Facebook.A friend of a friend, living in Tel Aviv, had been forced to go into his
apartment building’s bomb shelter in the middle of the night.The man’s wife and daughter had been
mortified that he had worn a flimsy t-shirt and ratty black boxer shorts when
he knew they might encounter friends and neighbors, and so he was inquiring
(after-the-fact) about appropriate miklat-wear.Was his chosen outfit, he asked, appropriate
in the given situation?

The post was clearly only half-serious, intended to bring a
bit of levity to an extremely upsetting and tense situation.The man’s friends egged him on, urging him
to wear even skimpier clothing were he to find himself in a similar situation
in the future.Though I would not
comment myself, I did find myself getting more and more upset as I continued
thinking about the situation.No, I
determined, the outfit was not acceptable; no outfit is acceptable, for no
Israeli citizen should be expected to tolerate these ongoing attacks engineered
by the terrorists of Hamas who will not rest until they see Israel destroyed.

It’s unacceptable that in her 66 years of existence, Israel
has continually been drawn into defensive campaigns against its enemies at such
a great price that there is hardly a family among her eight million citizens
that has not been impacted in some way by a wartime casualty.

It’s unacceptable that when preschoolers and kindergartners
in Israel hear the words tzeva adom
they think not of the color red in their crayon boxes but of cowering with
their classmates in reinforced bunkers.

It’s unacceptable that the so-called “leadership” in Gaza has
spent money and energy stockpiling weapons, building underground tunnels designed
solely to facilitate deadly terror attacks on the civilian population of a
sovereign nation, leaving the citizens of Gaza to live in squalor and
insecurity while they rule by proxy from the comfort of a luxury suite in
Qatar.

It’s unacceptable that the media and the court of public
opinion deride Israel’s every move, trotting out anti-Semitic canards and
misplaced buzzwords like “genocide” and “apartheid.”

It’s unacceptable that the United Nations, established in the
hopes of creating a level playing field for all peoples and nations, continues
to isolate, marginalize, and condemn Israel, including twenty-one anti-Israel
resolutions during 2013, while countries such as China, Syria, and Iraq- rife
with violations of human rights and personal liberties- garner no such
attention.

I could go on and on, but you get the picture.Israel’s enemies and critics have become more
vociferous, and instead of reasoned critiques that might stem from disagreement
over the policies of the Netanyahu government, the legitimacy of her very
existence is being called into question.

Let me be clear: my heart breaks for the citizens of Gaza who
have been caught in the crossfire of this conflict.I feel great pain for their situation, and
mourn the innocent civilians who have been killed or injured.But unlike those who have chosen to be public
faces of the pro-Palestinian movement, such as Roger Waters and Desmond Tutu
and Javier Bardem; and those who have chosen to embrace the BDS movement, which
advocates boycotts, divestment, and sanctions against Israel, I know that I can
feel compassion toward Gazans without finding it necessary to tear down
Israel.

This spring, when I began to decide on my sermon topics for
the High Holidays, I knew that I wanted to give a sermon about Israel.I hoped that I would tell you about the
country’s beauty and its importance to our people throughout our history.I planned to invite you to come with me and
my family on our congregational trip this summer- a trip which I still strongly
encourage you to join.Perhaps I would
have touted the many technological innovations that Israel has introduced to
the world, or spoken about Israeli contributions in the fine arts.If I’d wanted to confront more difficult
issues, maybe I would have mentioned the struggle for Jewish pluralism and
women’s religious rights.Yet while I am
thankful that the truce seems to be holding and the rockets have stopped, at
least for the time being, I know I cannot give the Israel sermon I initially
sat down to write.

The purpose of a sermon or other public speech is to inform,
to educate, and perhaps to be persuasive enough to win over a listener to the
speaker’s point of view.In this case,
however, I know that the battle is not likely to
be won through skilled rhetoric. People are pretty steadfast in their positions
and have already chosen sides.

So the vast
majority of you have already formulated your opinions on Israel, and the
information I offer here in the next few moments probably will not garner
converts to a different point of view. Perhaps some of you will be upset
with me for choosing to speak about Israel this evening.Perhaps you question the connection between
Yom Kippur and Israel; perhaps you feel that American Jewry has its own issues
without coming involved in Israeli affairs; perhaps you have other reasons why
the mention of Israel elicits an uncomfortable response.After all, according to the Pew study on
Judaism, released last year, 30% of American Jews do not feel an attachment to
Israel, and up to 57% disagreed with the statement that Israel is an essential
part of Jewish life.[1]

But wherever your personal feelings on Israel may lie, I hope
that you will hear me out.For I believe
that Israel remains vitally important to the Jewish people, and that there is
much that the world can learn from her.

Much of the
media, particularly during this summer’s escalation, has tended to portray
Israel as the primary aggressor.But
throughout Israel’s existence, this has rarely- if ever- been the case.In 1948, Arab armies attacked just after
Israel’s declaration of independence, with the belief that they could destroy
the new state before it could ever gain a foothold.In 1967’s Six Day War, Israel did launch the
first formal strike, but that came only after Egypt’s President Nasser closed
the Straits of Tiran and Iraqi and Jordanian forces had amassed along the
Jordanian border.And on Yom Kippur 41
years ago, the Arab states launched attacks on Israel purposely timed to
coincide with the holiest day of the Jewish calendar.Similarly, this summer, Israel felt compelled
to respond when its citizens came under a constant barrage of rocket fire.Surely, we in C-U would not sit idle while
under constant attack from Gifford or Cerro Gordo.

Still, many writers
and pundits argue that Israel responded inappropriately.They use terms such as “disproportionate
force,” and point to the disparity between Israeli and Palestinian
casualties.Yair Lapid, Israel’s Finance
Minister, noted in a speech given in Germany back in August that Israel’s “moral test … is to continue to distinguish between enemies and
innocents…People sit in their comfortable homes, watching the evening
news, and tell us that we are failing the test.Why?Because in Gaza, people
suffer more.They don’t understand – or
don’t want to understand – that the suffering of Gaza is the main tool of
evil.When we explain to them, time after
time, that Hamas uses the children of Gaza as human shields, that Hamas intentionally
places them in the firing line to ensure that they die, that Hamas sacrifices
the lives of the young to win its propaganda war, people refuse to believe it.
Why? Because they cannot believe that human beings – human beings who look like
them and sound like them – are capable of behaving that way.Because good people always refuse to
recognize the totality of evil until it’s too late.”[2]

As Lapid notes,
we find that each side in this conflict emphasizes different priorities.Israel was able to greatly minimize the
number of deaths on its side thanks to tremendous infrastructure investments in
bomb shelters and in the Iron Dome missile defense system, both of which served
to insulate Israeli civilians from the attacks.The leadership in Gaza, on the other hand, elected to invest its money
in stockpiling weapons and building a network of tunnels into Israel, through
which they intended to kidnap, attack, maim, or kill Israelis.An estimated 600,000 tons of concrete were
diverted to build these tunnels at an estimated cost, in both parts and labor,
of nearly ninety million dollars.[3]Had this money been used instead to provide
opportunities for the citizens of Gaza—to fund education and infrastructure
projects, and to restore hope to a downtrodden community—this summer’s events
could have unfolded much differently.

Some will still
protest that Israel’s bombing raids unfairly targeted civilian areas.While there is believed to have been some
discrepancy in the reporting of Gazan casualties,[4] it is of course, extremely
lamentable that any loss of life was incurred during this summer’s
battles.But to suggest that the Israel
Defense Forces attacked haphazardly, that they sought to escalate the death
toll in any way, again distorts the reality of the situation.As has now been widely reported, and even
acknowledged by the United Nations (an institution that is frequently quite
critical of Israel), the IDF regularly provided advanced warnings of attacks in
an effort to allow civilians to clear the area.[5]That many chose to stay, heeding the urgings
of Hamas leadership, testifies to the mindset of the Hamas commanders.Their endgame has little to nothing to do
with freedom, self-determination, peace, and security for the citizens of
Gaza.They are driven instead by a
desire to maintain the struggle, for doing so keeps them in power, and bolsters
their image as heroes or martyrs.

Another argument
that is frequently heard regarding casualties in Gaza holds that since Gaza is
so densely populated, civilians had no place else to go.Gaza is indeed a small country, but as Alan
Dershowitz and others have noted,[6] there are open areas away
from population centers.Hamas fighters
chose not to do battle from these locations, and continually discouraged
civilians from fleeing to these locations.Instead, they repeatedly fired from civilian areas, including schools
and hospitals, which is not only a violation of international law, but is also
morally indefensible.

My outrage is directed
toward Hamas and its combatants.This is
not a group of intrepid freedom fighters engaged in civil disobedience in a
battle for self-determination, despite attempts of the media to portray them in
that light.Hamas is a terrorist
organization, designated as such by the European Union, the United States,
Canada, and several other countries.In
contrast, I do feel empathy for the citizens of Gaza.I pray that they will have the opportunity to
live in peace alongside their Israeli neighbors.I still cling to the belief that there can be
two states whose rulers recognize and respect the right of the other to
exist.And I hope that a resolution can
be found soon, so that our children, the children of Israel, and the children
of Palestine can be spared the pain and frustration of repeating the same
conversations.

So, somehow,
Hamas must be removed from the equation.And the world must understand that Israel’s struggles against Hamas are
not isolated battles to protect Israeli interests; they are part of the global
fight against terror.Though they may
bear different names and fight on different fronts, all of the groups who have
made headlines in the past year for kidnappings, beheadings, rapes, executions,
and other violent acts purportedly carried out in the name of Allah—all these
groups are essentially one and the same.Ignore the threat of Hamas—or of Hezbollah, which is strengthening its
presence in Lebanon—and we risk watching their counterparts in Islamic Jihad,
Boko Haram, and ISIS grow in strength and tenacity.As Prime Minister Netanyahu said on Monday in
his speech to the United Nations, “When militant Islam succeeds
anywhere, it’s emboldened everywhere. When it suffers a blow in one place, it’s
set back in every place.That’s why
Israel’s fight against Hamas is not just our fight. It’s your fight.”[7]Radicalized, jihadist Islam—a perverse
distortion of normative, moderate Muslim beliefs—represents an existential
threat to us all.

To me, Yom Kippur is a time to
look toward the future, to envision the change that we want to make in
ourselves and the difference we want to make in the world, and then to take the
necessary steps to bring those changes to fruition.As we improve our society and ourselves, we
renew hope and opportunity for future generations.

I want my children, and your
children, and all the children of earth to inherit a world of peace and
possibility, in which problems are solved not through violence but through
dialogue, in which the inherent worth of every individual is appreciated and
celebrated.In the world I dream of,
Israel will live in security with her neighbors, and terror will exist only in
ghost stories and Hollywood slasher films.This is my prayer for the people of Israel, this is my prayer for the
people of Gaza, this is my prayer for the whole world.

There are no easy answers to these
issues.Certainly, I’d encourage
continued support of Israel as the homeland of the Jewish people.Buy Israeli goods, use Israeli technologies
(which are already relatively ubiquitous), or travel to Israel yourself.

Advocate and agitate for peaceful resolutions
to this ongoing conflict.As I
mentioned, I still hold out hope that a two-state solution can be possible, and
that democracy and cooperation can create a rapprochement in the Middle
East.This will require compromise on
both sides, which I believe should begin with a freeze on further Israeli
settlement construction, and a reconceptualization of the right of return for
Arab refugees.

We are B’nai Yisrael, the children
of Israel, descendants of the one who wrestled and struggled.We continue to struggle; we continue to
debate how best to engage with the land with whom we share a name and an
identity.May we continue to struggle,
may we continue to engage, until that day—may it come soon—when peace shall
prevail.

Oseh ha-shalom bimromav, Hu
ya’aseh shalom aleinu, v’al kol Yisrael, v’al kol yoshvei tevel, v’imru:
Amen.May the One Who makes peace in the
heavens, cause peace to descend upon us, upon Israel, and upon all who dwell on
earth, and let us say: Amen.